I apologize for trying to be a doctor. I know this may be bringing insight to the psychological community, but I’m not a doctor so I’m not going to do this anymore.

I live in Montreal, Canada and am one of those normally intelligent but severely autistic and semi-autonomous adults who fall through the cracks. Diagnosed with autism at age 3, I also have Tourette’s Syndrome and personality disorder along with the sensory irritability and motor skill impairments that often accompany autism. Although I can look after personal hygiene, routine shopping, bill payments and some other tasks and even hold a part time clerical job if the workplace is flexible enough to provide the adaptations I need, I have trouble with all tasks that depend heavily on dexterity, visual-spatial skills, social skills, focus, organization and higher order cognitive skills like decision making and planning. I often spend hours just trying to find things. My low frustration tolerance, sensory irritation that worsens in response to frustration and underlying deficits make it impossible to do household chores properly or even tolerate them. These tasks irritate my nerves so much they set off fierce rages where I break things and bite my arms to shreds.

The particular wiring abnormalities I was born with also left me without the ability to cope with change, tolerate even the most trivial stressors or have the ambition to develop interests. All it takes is a disruption like a blackout to break my tenuous hold on fragile skills and set off a meltdown that people who don’t know about autism confuse with a psychotic break. When hard and uncertain times set in around the turn of the millennium, my moods and behavior problems got worse and my negative disposition deteriorated into outright nihilism.

In order to function at his best, an autistic adult has to be matched to the right living environment and get the support he needs. I happen to be stuck in an especially tough and inappropriate living situation that I wouldn’t wish on any severely disabled adult. Montreal is a troubled, angry and poorly managed big city with a manic pace of life and vicious climate that keeps me housebound for days and has me teetering on the edge of a meltdown with violent storms. Like all parts of Quebec, it became a predominantly French society that makes life difficult for people who don’t speak the language. The last thing an autistic whose grip on language is weak to begin with needs is to have a foreign language shoved down his throat. I also struggle to cope with the demands of a regular part time job and full load of adult responsibilities.

I am in this mess because my parents went into denial when I was diagnosed at age 3, raised me as a “normal” child, expected me to function as well as my nondisabled sister and punished me for failing. They never gave any thought to my needs as a disabled adult because they didn’t even think I was disabled. I am now stuck with no support at all except for my elderly father, who is still in partial denial and is getting worn out from his role as my only support person. When he passes on I will have nobody, not a soul! Montreal has no support services for adults with my needs. I’m worn out from spending years trying in vain to get help with the tasks I have difficulty with and being bounced around like a ball.

One would expect an intelligent autistic like me to thrive and build resilience in such a challenging environment. Sadly, that did not happen. All I got for straining myself for so many years and fending for myself with no support was the burnout some high functioning adults who lead stressful lives and don’t get the services they need are prone to. If anything, my fragile nerves just got weaker from the wear and tear.

I laud Lizzie Gottlieb for showing the public what life can really be like for adults with Asperger Syndrome.

-Marla